Chapter 74: let me at her

Chapter 74 Simone It’s not so bad. We’re all having dinner at the massive dining table that barely gets used—small talk here, polite laughter there. Two hours later, Lenora’s masterpiece was unveiled: grilled meat, fried meat, smoked meat, every kind of meat you could dream of. Baked potatoes, fried potatoes, mashed potatoes. Potato heaven. If I die tonight, bury me in starch. Nothing to worry about. Just enjoying myself. Unlike her brothers, I don’t see the Neta princess often. The last time must’ve been over a year ago. She’s exactly as I remember: blonde hair, blue eyes, the same brand of impossible perfection her brothers have. Honestly, are their parents running a Barbie factory? All three of them look like they were designed, not born. It’s hard to believe they’re wolves—if anything, they have more of a vampire aesthetic. Not that I’ve ever met a vampire, and I plan to keep it that way. "So, how’s it being mated?" Allison asks, her gaze sliding toward Lenora. Lenora opens her mouth to answer, but Ronan’s voice cuts through the air. "Wouldn’t you know? You’ve been mated... what is it now? Two years?" His tone is smooth, but the edges are sharp enough to cut. The air goes rigid—like someone just dropped a block of ice in the middle of the table. So much for peaceful. I’ve never heard Ronan sound like that before, so much anger wrapped around each word.I study his face. Still handsome, infuriatingly so, even with the anger simmering there. "I was trying to make conversation," Allison says, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth. "Well, so am I," Ronan replies, smooth but with an edge that makes the air feel heavier. "It hasn’t even been a year for these two. You tell us—still roses and sunshine, two years into the bond?" "Yeah... we’re okay," Allison answers, a touch too quickly. Ronan scoffs, the sound short and dismissive, then goes back to cutting into his steak as if nothing happened. "Yeah, tell us more," Lenora says, tone bright as she steers the conversation away from the edge. "Well, I’m sure you know about the intensity of the bond in the beginning," Allison says with a polite smile. "I’d like to say it’s mellowed out now, but... the intensity is still there." "Honestly, I can’t believe the goddess decided our little sister would be the first one," Austin says, shaking his head like it’s still a cosmic joke. "Always thought it would be Adrian here," he adds, patting his brother on the back. "And the last would definitely be you," Adrian says without missing a beat. Dinner is... okayish after that. No more big explosions, thanks to my timely interventions every time Ronan’s voice sharpened. But the snide, cutting remarks still sneak through—and honestly, I don’t know who this Ronan is. When the meal’s over, I stand to start clearing plates, but Ronan beats me to it. His expression is unreadable as he stacks them in his arms. I gather the remaining dishes and follow him into the kitchen. In the kitchen, I struggle over wanting to say something. I don’t like seeing him like this—no easy grin, no spark in his eyes. I’ve seen Ronan broody before, but this is different. "May I talk to you?" a voice says from the doorway. "No," Ronan answers without even looking up. "Please give us some space, Simone," she says to me. Normally, that would earn her a sharp, sarcastic reply. But there’s something in her tone—tight, deliberate, almost... private. So I set the plates down, nod once, and step out. But I don’t leave. I lean against the wall just outside the door, arms folded, ears tilted toward the low hum of their voices. *** Lenora I don’t like this Allison. I mean, I liked her the first time I met her—she was polite, charming even—but now that I know something went down between her and Ronan? No. Absolutely not. Obviously, I’m on my best friend’s side. Always. Under the table, I slide my hand into Cameron’s. His fingers curl around mine instantly, a quiet squeeze of reassurance that tells me he can feel my pulse picking up. That’s when we hear it. It’s not loud, not to human ears. But for us? It might as well be blasting through a set of high-grade speakers. Every word, every subtle shift in tone, is crystal clear. "Don’t fucking start with me, Allison," Ronan’s voice cuts through the air, hard and cold. "Are you still mad at me? You know mates are—" she starts. Ronan scoffs, the sound sharp enough to slice glass. "Unbelievable," he says, cutting her off. "You think I’m mad because you got a mate?" Ronan’s voice is calm—too calm. "No, Allison. I knew from the start our relationship had an expiration date. But it seems you’ve forgotten what actually happened." His tone hardens, the control starting to crack. "I didn’t even want to know you after I helped you escape those bloody vampires. You followed me for weeks, and I gave in. We were friends. Then you pursued me, and like the fucking idiot I was, I let you in. I thought it was cute, your persistence. I really liked you." His voice dips low, a flicker of softness—quickly snuffed out. "Of course I liked you too—" she begins. "Really?" Ronan’s scoff is sharp enough to cut glass. "How did we end, Allison? Let me fucking jog your memory. There I was, in bloody Paris. I flew to see you, scraped my savings together. And when I got to the hotel... I waited in the lobby for hours. Tired. Jetlagged. Alone in a foreign country where I knew nobody. To be specific—eightfuckinghours." I can hear the crack in his voice when he says it. My chest tightens. "When you never showed, I thought something happened. So I flew to Canada. Straight to your pack. I spent a week looking for you. And then you walk in. Hand in hand. With your mate. That’s where you’d been. Not lost. Not hurt. Not dead." Ronan’s voice rises, sharp enough to make the air feel brittle. "That’s right. You were busy fucking your mate while I was wasting away like a fucking idiot—first at that hotel, then at your pack. I’d been raised in a pack, Allison. I knew what mates meant. Sure, I was heartbroken, but I took it with grace. I stayed. I stayed, hoping to resolve things—" his voice catches on the word, then hardens into a snarl, "—but do you know what happened next?" Cameron’s hand tightens on my arm, trying to keep me in place. It’s not working. "Your sweet little mate stole a damn heirloom and pinned it on me. And you , my girlfriend of over a year, what did you do, Allison?!" His shout makes the walls seem to vibrate. "He will not speak to my sister that way," Austin snaps, trying to stand, but Adrian forces him back down. "You didn’t believe me. You didn’t talk to me. You didn’t even ask for my side. You just stood there, watching, judging, while I was branded a thief. And when the pack witch cleared me and proved my innocence, what did you do? No apology. No remorse. Just excuses. Just, ’he’s jealous.’" Let me at the bitch. I shoot to my feet so fast the chair scrapes back hard. Cameron’s arms are suddenly around my waist, a steel band holding me in place. "Let me at her!" I snarl, voice breaking into a scream. "Go. Leave. Take your sister and go," Cameron orders, voice sharp enough to cut glass. And the she has the audacity to come out of my kitchen. Mykitchen. Teary-eyed, like she’s the victim here. "Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me—" "Let me at the selfish, narcissistic bitch!" I thrash against Cameron’s hold, claws itching to connect with flesh. She looks at me startled, like I’m the unreasonable one. The audacity makes my vision go white at the edges. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" I rip myself free from Cameron’s grip, my claws flashing out. The room smells like ozone and fury. And in that moment, it’s not a matter of if I’ll reach her. It’s how much she’ll still resemble herself when I’m done.